Diego's Bogus Adventure
by Afro7hundr
Summary: Creativity at its most absent.


_Outta' Hell_

1.

Mocha; the wafting scent of coffee enriched with milk chocolate mingles with my follicles.

Awaken, to a place shrouded in darkness. Footsteps on a ceramic floor, a single pair of feet moving away, across a space that seemed wide, yet empty. I listen quietly until they stop, and all I'm left with is the hum of machinery nearby.

I'm lying on something, but it's hard to tell; everything's numb. Even rotating my eyeballs to look around in the indecipherable black feels sluggish and unresponsive. Can't flex fingers, can't wiggle toes. All I can do is blink, and listen.

Footsteps, again, now coming this way and with it the sound of something being scribbled on a… clipboard, maybe? Stops where the heels of my feet point, and the scribbling continues for a spell before it, too, ceases.

Silence, followed by a quiet gasp. More silence.

Something plops down onto a soft surface and a faster repetition of footsteps makes their way to my side. What I can only imagine to be fingers are placed around my right eye socket. I feel them gently close my eyelid, then leave my face.

My lid opens once again, and I hear a deep intake of breath.

"My God… _He's__ awake_." She's female, perhaps somewhere around thirty and forty years of age. Apparently I just gave her one hell of a surprise.

Something that sounds vaguely like a phone is unhooked above my head. A flick of the switch, and the static haze of a radio comes to life. With a beep it cuts out, and the woman speaks.

"Nancy? Nancy, are you there?"

Beep, and the static's back. A new voice, younger yet also female comes through.

"Dr. Grace? Is something wrong?" Beep. "Nancy, is the chief available right now?" Beep. "I'll go check. What happened?" Beep. "It's patient gee - dee - zero of the comatose ward. He's woken _up._" Beep, dramatic silence, and then an incredulous reply. "No way." Beep. "He's right here, wide awake and looking around." Beep. "…Alright, let me put it on the comm."

The switch is flicked once more, and the radio cuts.

A dainty little tune plays loud and clear on some sort of loudspeaker, and the young woman's voice rings out.

"Chief Brown, you're needed in the comatose ward. Again; Chief Brown, you are needed in the comatose ward."

Speaker cuts out, the message echoes through the halls, and we're back to silence. Ms. Nancy steppes away, and I'm left in limbo.

_Why the hell is everything so dark?…_

Ten seconds, thirty, five minutes; whatever amount of time it took, eventually a door opens across the room.

"Mr. Brown, it's _him._"

One person quickly comes my way, followed by the other. Stop by my feet, just as before.

"…Inconceivable." rumbles the newcomer; a voice belonging unmistakably to a seasoned middle aged man. Heavy footsteps, by my side, just as before. "Is it really possible?"

Grubby fingertips around my eye socket, and I barely manage to turn my head away and grimace irritably. The fingers remove themselves to my reaction. "Alive, _and _responsive! Dr., get me a chair, please."

Lighter footsteps leave and then return, plunking down a metallic object beside me. With a gurthy grunt comes the squeaking of polyester. A pair of hands clap together once, and the man speaks.

"…Mr. Armando. Can you hear me?"

Nod.

"Do you have any pain, or anguish?"

Shake.

"Can you move anything other than your head?"

Try, but fail. Still numb. Shake.

"Can you speak?"

Good question. Haven't tried yet.

"I want you to try and repeat each word that I say-"

"WantchurepeteachwurddatIsay." blurts a cracked whisper of a voice. He's suddenly quiet.

Whoa. I think that came from _me._

"Please, do that again. As clear as you can make it."

Intake of air, and I proceed.

"I-want-you-to-rep-eat… each-word-that-I… say."

What the hell? I sound terrible; hoarse and croaking, I've never sounded like this before.

"A miracle. Truly a miracle. Nancy, when did he regain consciousness?"

"About seven minutes ago, chief."

"As if it weren't staggering enough that he woke up at _all_, but to recover _this much in so little time…" _He falls silent after trailing off, probably in thought. My head's swimming with questions, and if ever there was a time to ask, now would be it.

"…Hey, Nancy."

She gasps in alarm.

"M-Mr. Armando? What is it?"

"…you gonna finish that mocha?"

Nobody speaks. I'm sure the question wasn't the most expected, but a man's gotta prioritize.


End file.
